Acquired Tastes
by HedgeNinja
Summary: Early days with a younger Captain Jack Sparrow and co. on the Black Pearl. Fun and games until it all went wrong, what was the story behind the highlights Gibbs told? T for language, impending violence.
1. Because we can

Acquired Tastes. Ch. 1

**Disclaimer:** PotC belongs to the good ship Disney. Dammit. I just pirate around the edges 'cause it's fun.  
**A/N:** Anything that doesn't match with things said or done in Curse of the Black Pearl will be because I messed with the canon. Or because I screwed up.

"Lighten sail! Move ya bloated bilge rats!" The deck sprang into life, any mutterings concerning the parentage of the source of the orders low enough to be officially 'unheard'.

Bill joined in trimming the set of the mainmast sails as the ship veered from her original course, briefly glancing over to the figure at the wheel with a sigh. He'd wager his next share that this little escapade was going to cost them a first mate. Caspian was a solid right hand, fought like a man possessed and had a knack for breaking in -or simply breaking- troublesome crewmembers, but he didn't deal well with runs that weren't meticulously planned. An attention to detail that was both a blessing and a curse when dealing with the captain.

His thoughts on this carried him the length of the ship to the quarterdeck, receiving a nod as he leant back against the railing.

"Jack, why exactly are we making this crazy monkey-assed chase?"

"That's _Captain_ Jack if you please" came the automatic, but unconcerned reply. "And we're making this 'minor side trip' because we can".

"We could also turn around and find any number of nice, fat shallow-hugging targets until normal shipping season starts" Bill pointed out.

Jack grinned "Aye mate, we could. But ye forget, this is the Black Pearl we're on. Fastest ship in the Caribbean. How's the rest of the world to know that if we don't let her prove it? Wouldn't want to ruin the lady's confidence; 's bad manners".

Bootstrap shook his head. Fidelity to a woman was not generally a defining trait of pirate captains, especially women who happened to be made of wood. But then Jack never had been one for conformity.

"You know Caspian's spitting tacks over this one" Raising the original point of this conversation.

Jack waived a dismissive hand. "Man worries too much, he just needs a good scrap to cheer him up. 'Sides I planned this one out and everything"

"You have a plan?"

He got a look of mock affront "Mate, I always have a plan. We head north for a few days, pick up a favourable wind, pile on canvas, then swing down and catch 'em like stranded fish".

"And if our catch involves a 'minor diversion' hurricane, this being storm season?"

"Will you quit fussing like a madam Bill and trust me" Jack half-growled in exasperation, eyes glinting with confidence in his ability to create mayhem. "It'll work. The Pearl'll stand up to anything, she's the stoutest-"

"Ship in the Caribbean" Bill finished for him. Yep, definitely an unnatural love affair going on there.

" 'Sright. So seeing as how it's going to be a busy few days, you'd best be sortin' out yer duty shifts" A light but clear dismissal. Bill took the hint. His and Jack's friendship had been the reason he'd turned down the position of first mate on the Pearl, crews lasted better with a neutral voice to the captain available. The friendship had lasted though, backed by an unspoken agreement that Bill followed orders like any other crewman. Quartermaster suited him fine, although crew turnover was rather high even by pirate standards; plenty decided that there were better rewards to be had with less madness elsewhere. Given how Jack had gotten the Pearl though it was chaos defined that partnership.

Well maybe they'd get lucky with the weather, finish this chase and be back in a couple of weeks. Bill snorted. And perhaps gilded letters of pardon would fly out of the captain's…hat. The haul had better be bloody good; the Pearl wasn't provisioned for an extended open water haul. Why Jack had decided to get hell-bent on catching this one quarry…

The aforementioned (Captain) Jack Sparrow watched him go with a grin. Bill was a good man and ally. And he was probably right about the mate, but few ships braved the Atlantic at this time of the year unless hefty profits were involved. There still would be hefty profits; they were just going to be 'redirected' slightly. Almost believable enough to ignore the other reason that only raised its head when Jack was forced to be honest with himself (this possibly happened slightly more often than he was honest with anyone else). He hated to lose. And the captain of the hunted vessel had shown an irritating knack for shaking pursuit, a ship as swift as the Pearl (his Pearl) should have made short work of her yet despite Jack's best efforts they hadn't been able to catch her before she'd swung out to open sea. Yet.

His hands caressed the polished wood of the wheel unconsciously as the hat was slung across it briefly to haul a scarf that might once have been blue over the unruly mane of tar black hair that not even dreadlocks could fully contain. Well maybe another 'trinket' couldn't hurt.

"Now Gods" he mused, hat replaced to its rightful place. "Stand up for bastards"

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**A/N: **Hope you like, many bonus points (and virtual cookies) will be awarded for anyone who can give me the name of the text the final quote is from. Hint: It would have been written by the time PotC is set. If you can give me the character name, you're a legend.


	2. Sugar is Not Shiny

Acquired Tastes Ch 2

4 days later and the crew would have welcomed the appearance of the entire Royal Navy as a relief from the tension of sailing a knife edge of treacherous weather, piling on canvas only to have to haul it in or risk its destruction. If they'd mercifully escaped the vicious attention of any early winter storms it wasn't from lack of paranoia by the weather observers. No-one was sure when Jack had actually slept over that period, dividing his time between meticulously (for a change) charting their looping course and manning the helm with a mixture of stubbornness and dexterity that had earned the crew's respect, mutterings aside. They'd certainly made up lost ground on their quarry-the main trade route traded speed for relative safety, now they just had to hope like hell they hadn't overshot her. This had already been argued earlier last night, Caspian arguing for doing just that allowing them a head-on attack, Jack confident they were close enough to run them down from behind keeping the advantages of more speed and less warning.

And so of course here they were heading south under full sail and running no lights, Bill wondering (again) what Jack had gotten them into this time. Then as the glow of pre-dawn had faded away under the rising light they'd spotted her right were she should have been, only a few miles ahead and unaware of them until it was too late.

"Gentlemen" Jack said laughing, "Run out the guns and hoist our calling card".

Perhaps the merchant's captain hoped to win a second trial of speed against the _Pearl_, refusing to heave to at the out of range warning shots they'd fired off; but Fortune wasn't with him as the _Pearl _closed in relentlessly on their port quarter; the ships side-slipping through the water like a dog on a rabbit.

"Hold 'til we're close then bleed 'er slow!" came Jack's orders; the feral grin on his face Bill knew was mirrored on his own. "Aye cap'n!" Caspian heading the guns below deck knew the drill, didn't want to sink your prize after all.

"Hold, damn ye'!" tracking the hunted ship's evasions Jack's world narrowed to nothing but the shape in front of him and the motion of the _Pearl_ beneath his feet; angling in to strike at the unguarded flank, closer…

"Fire all!" The cannons' roar rumbled through the belly of the _Pearl_ like a live thing as the gap between the ships disappeared under fire and smoke shot through with screams. Fire from small arms and the decking guns spat back and forth, his crew adding shrapnel grenades to the mix. Jack cursed suddenly hauling the wheel over hard as the merchantman (the _Godwit_ he'd idly noted amongst the chaos) veered sideways aiming for the other vessel in a suicidal attempt to ram. "Not bloody likely" Jack growled as the _Pearl _slid like a seal leaving the other ship astern in her wake. Hoping to catch the _Pearl_ the same way? Well that trick wouldn't work on Captain Jack Sparrow mate. "Run out ahead of her!" Jack bellowed, adding "And load the aft cannons with chain, time this beauty stopped running".

The trick needed a damn good hand at the guns but Jack knew he kept Caspian around for a reason other than disapproving of every other run Jack proposed. The _Pearl_ steadily lengthened the gap but the _Godwit _wasn't trying to run although there weren't many options; perhaps her captain had decided not to go down without at least doing some damage to their destroyers.

"Hands to the sheets! Run her up to the wind to port!" Frantic trimming of sails as they reversed course, now running as close to the wind as they dared aiming head-on for the other ship. Not as crazy a tactic as it first appeared.

An instant from firing range the _Pearl_ tacked across the wind, burning off speed and veering sharply to port away from the other ship, all but the aft most guns off target and them with only moments of opportunity. But the crew didn't let him down; the ball and chain whistled out scything through the _Godwit's_ foremast. Howls of triumph from the _Pearl_ clashed with the scream of shattering wood as the stricken ship wallowed, mast and rigging trailing in the water like the broken wing of a bird.

"Make ready to board!"

A bloody melee and two crewmen later and the survivors of the Godwit's crew were huddled on deck amongst the shattered rigging. After the first initial charge their captain had given his surrender; tardy enough that many crews would have simply ignored it but it suited Jack just fine. The fun was in the chase not the slaughter. And the shiny of course. Always the shiny.

The shiny not there? Not good, very not good. Jack stared at Caspian, trying for his best gambling face as an alternative to looking like he'd been hit over the head in a bar fight. Sugar? The slaughtering hold was full of sugar? A more or less legal cargo requiring entirely too much effort and risk to profit from?

"Show me" Jack demanded, his mind coming up with a dozen backup plans and trying to find one that didn't involve a vengeful crew when word got around what the supposed 'haul' actually was.

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A/N: Hee hee, Jack's in trouble...Incidentally this story is set when Jack's only had the Black Pearl for about six months and assumes it's his first captaincy so there're still some shakedown issues getting worked out. Like paranoid first mates. Hit the shiny blue button folks!


	3. How come it never goes smooth?

This made no sense he thought, following his grim first mate below decks. No sane company would send a single ship full of cargo across the Atlantic this late in the season; too much risk not enough profit. And if this ship wasn't working for one of the large companies she wasn't an independent either, Jack had seen that much of the paperwork in the captain's cabin (in between pocketing a few small items before the crew came through for communal salvage) before the interruption. The aroma of sugar permeating the hold's gloomy interior was almost sickly sweet, like trouble; the same trouble brewing in the eyes of the crew waiting below. At least Caspian hadn't allowed anyone else above decks to go talking. Jack sauntered along the narrow gap between the stacked crates seemingly unconcerned at their labels, pausing to casually inspect the contents of one opened by the crew thinking to find hidden goods within, trickling it through his fingers while something capered through the back of his mind trying to burst into coherence. Something…something…stinking.

Jack paused, his glance sliding in the direction of the ship's hull hidden behind more crates sensing another odour, not sweet but reeking. Maybe real maybe only in his head but who better to know it than a pirate? The smell of death and misery. He knew what he'd find lining the hull as he moved to the end of the ally; two lines of chain waist high, shoulder high ran the length of the hold and attached to them just visible jammed behind a crate's edge were shackles. So that was how the Godwit flew eh? Not a local trader but a slaver, bringing her wretched cargo to suffer in the name of Caribbean 'progress'. Jack stood there, anger and disgust seething in him. Better a pirate than the lie of 'enlightened civilisation'. Others might join that game but not him. Not ever. Another capering thought suddenly tumbled out of anger's clarity; of a company name on a harbour fees receipt, and of a date indicating…less than a day spent in port. Jack turned and headed for the ladder, there were conversations to be had about just what had to be delivered so urgently and he knew who with.

"Captain, what do ye plan to do about-" Caspian approached, his gesture taking in the luckless cargo. Jack smiled without humour. "There's other cargo of value on this ship mate. We just have to find it"

"Mr Turner!" Jack gestured him aside as Bootstrap snagged another crewman to oversee guarding the prisoners. "Trouble?" "Hopefully not mate. Long story short, hold's full of sugar" continuing over Bill's exclamation "but the ships a bloody slaver an' I'm damn sure she's carryin' something else. So I think it's time we had a little chat with her dear captain there. Savvy?" Bill nodded. "Savvy".

"Ah Captain Winters, so good of you to drop by" Jack looked up as Bill accompanied by Tanje brought the man in, dumping him in a chair. His face was pale but he kept his gaze level with Jack's. Injuries but nothing severe, Jack had been careful about that when they'd been improperly introduced over cutlasses; people with information were useful. While he had little sympathy for the man in light of recent discoveries he also wanted this to go smoothly.

"Enjoy your trip over from Africa, Captain, weather how it is and all? Seems your employers hustled you along mighty quick though mate" waving the docket in question "Why so urgent to send ya' out on a solo 'sugar run' at season's end?"

"I don't know what you mean Captain" Winters' tone was studiously neutral.

Jack groaned inwardly. Was the man trying for bravery or just complete idiocy? If they'd been boarded by damn near anyone else…Jack's tastes did not run to torture despite a couple of the crew currently signed with him. Besides bluff had carried him far better through any number of situations and he hoped it would here as well; right now failure to deliver on this run wasn't an option.

"I reckon ya' do scum!" the ugly growl in Bill's voice was a side of his friend rarely seen, as was the look in his eye as he idly trailed the business edge of a boot knife suggestively down the side of the captain's face. Most of the time Jack figured it was an act. Mostly. Tanje stood nearby providing additional large and dangerous presence. Winters swallowed but didn't flinch away from the blade.

"Let me make it simple for ye' Captain. It's been a tense few days. So ye' can save us a search and make it easy on yourselves or before we find what you're carryin' I'll have the crew here take your men apart piece by piece an' we'll see if they get bored before they get to you, savvy?"

"There's nothing to stop you and your men from doing whatever you wish, regardless of anything I tell you" Winters pointed out, not quite openly accusing the pirate of lying.

"Aye. But you do have my word that there's nothing'll stop me from doin' just that if you don't". Letting anger turn his face cold as he locked eyes with the other man. One threat, hoping it would be enough. It's only money mate and not even yours, not worth fighting over now, not worth your crew dammit…

Silence sat heavily in the cabin. Winters stared at the floor.

Oh hells teeth, the bluff was going to be called. Why did this run have to go from minor diversion to, God knows what? Never make threats you weren't prepared to carry out, even though you told yourself what you wouldn't turn to when you finally had your own ship. Right now you have to keep her. Refusing to consider the details of the immanent situation Jack forced his tone to unconcern.

"As you like. Bootstrap go get the lads, tell 'em to bring what they like and a couple of the wounded. Shame about the carpet."

Bill shot him a shocked look. Then Jack saw the same mask fixed on his own face slide into place. And that ugly chuckle "Aye cap'n" as he headed for the cabin door.

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Like? Hate? Reviews are shiny! (unlike sugar)

A less swashbuckling piracy moment than some (including Jack to be fair. Heh heh heh) might like. But pirate crews were pretty democratic and it didn't take much for a crew to decide they'd rather have someone else in charge if they thought the captain was losing his nerve, or not delivering the loot. Course it might not all end in tears, but you'll never know unless you keep reading ;D


	4. Decisions

Acquired Tastes Ch. 4

He was halfway through before the hoarse cry came from Winters. "Wait!"

"Hold that order" making it casual.

"Mercy for my crew Captain. Please" No longer neutral. About bloody time. Jack looked at the man expectantly. Winters nodded towards the room's centre. "Under the carpet. It's all stored there".

"Tear it up" Bootstrap and Tanje both set to rending the heavy material into strips, a pile gradually forming in the corner of the cabin. Jack watched, keeping half an eye on Winters; it was a shame about that carpet (not that there was anywhere for it on the _Pearl_, but still..) but he was impressed by what was eventually revealed underneath. The heavy planks of the cabin floor formed the inset lids to half a dozen storage crannies taking up most of the floor space but shallow enough that the lowered ceiling of the deck below might well be missed by many search crews. And in this case said storage crannies were neatly packed to the brims with raw ivory and gold freshly arrived from the African continent. Stand up for bastards indeed.

There was a stream of (mostly) organized chaos running between the two vessels; no reason to linger, swag wasn't worth spit until you could spend it. Ship looted, shiny loaded; the sugar was coming too, Jack had plans for that and the crew had approved of the equation sugar+Tortuga equals cash equals rum! Plus there was always the chance that Winters hadn't been entirely honest about 'everything' being under those floorboards. Crew injuries had been seen to by Patch (bad joke deliberate, but you wanted to be careful what you said, never knew when ye'd be on the receiving end of his skills) helped out by Bootstrap in between a dozen other jobs. For the _Godwit's_ wounded, well it had been clean and quick Jack had personally seen to that, the crew were in a good enough mood from the run's eventual success that 'no sport, no prisoners' hadn't even raised any protest. Yet he'd been well aware of the hatred in the eyes of Winters and the _Godwit's_ men, and the low but constant curses that had bored into him along the length of the ship.

"We're ready to make way Captain, what of the ship and the prisoners?"

What indeed. This far out to sea nothing to choose between but honest harshness or the option that whored itself as mercy.

"No need to fire her Caspian, who's to impress out here? As for the prisoners" Jack paused, suddenly vehemently wanting to be done with this run which had decidedly not lived up to its promises of entertainment "Dump 'em in the storage hold, secure the hatches and let her drift". After all, marooning wasn't killing a man. Not really.

"What of our bargain!" Winters shouted, struggling against the crewmen holding him uncaring of consequences. "You said there'd be mercy you lying-!"

"Believe me mate, believe me _comprehensively_ when I say that this is mercy. 'Sides when you think about it, it's only the same hospitality you've shown a great many souls in the past now isn't it" the anger in his voice returned across the deck even if some might misinterpret the reasons for it. Jack turned and strode across the gangway to the Pearl as his crew laughed; irony might be something involving metal for many of them but they liked a little blood with their jokes. And as captain reputation counted for everything, even if it was one you didn't want.

Captain equals cabin equals rum equals lots was sounding like another very good equation right about now.

"Come" Jack looked up from his seat at the chart table where he'd been idly browsing through the collection of paperwork retrieved from the cabin of the _Godwit's_ captain. Some interesting tidbits although he hadn't honestly been taking much of it in. The well-opened bottle on the table however attested that other things had been taken in with rather more success. He nodded as Bill entered in the general direction of the only other chair in the room that wasn't currently piled with random items, some practical, much of it not.

Jack had been a packrat for souvenirs of places and escapades ever since Bill had met him. Never mind that there was barely enough room on board a ship to store the essentials for survival let alone personal crew belongings-things, time and space all ran in short supply. Yet Jack had somehow managed to not only have acquired something new nearly every damn time they made port but also found somewhere to horde it. Bill wondered if in the weeks after Jack had becomes the _Pearl's_ captain some hapless merchant had mysteriously gained an entire extra warehouse's worth of space, or if a brothel (or several) suddenly found their entertaining chambers bereft of decorations.

Jack gave him that familiar almost feline smirk that appeared as a result of his having pulled off something crazy, but it didn't reach his eyes as much as usual Bill noted as he sat down.

"Not as 'minor' a diversion as planned then?"

"If this is going to become one of those irritating I-told-you-so conversations then do us a favour Bill, either shut up or pull up another bottle eh?"

"Fair enough" swiping the half empty one and shunting an unopened offering across the table.

"Would you have gone through with it Jack?"

"With what?" Jack trying to pretend he hadn't been paying attention to the question. Not fooling anyone.

"Our little conversation with Winters"

"A late addition to the brilliant plan which would have been _entirely_ unnecessary if the man had had the sense to simply admit defeat gracefully, 'stead of makin' things difficult. All worked out though."

"And if it hadn't?"

Jack scowled unhappily "Aye mate I would have. We're in the middle of the bloody Atlantic, didn't seem like a good place for the whole deal to go belly up" rocking his chair back to prop both feet on the chart table, one hand unconsciously reaching up to touch the dark wood of the hull behind him. "Caspian and the _Pearl_ never would have worked in the long run anyways. She's not his type"

"Your women are going to get twitchy about this little love affair of yours on the side; Selene's got a good arm on her…"

"We'll be the soul of discretion, can't have the reputation of a lady like the _Pearl_ being slandered after all" Jack raised an eyebrow at him "Course you could've had her for yerself; she likes you. An' it wasn't really in the plan to have you in on that business with Winters if it went bad"

Bill let out a bark of laughter "Hells Jack, would've been no worse than anything we've both seen and not as bad as half of it" Feeling no need to comment on what he'd taken part in over the years that had gone well beyond threats.

"Still, no need to add to what you already don't write home about. Must be bloody short letters, or do you fill 'em with charming nonsense about-"

Bill glared at him "Let it go Jack or I'll regret backing your sorry-arsed plan. Everyone wears masks in this life. Even you".

Jack opened his mouth to reply, then paused at the sudden subtle change to the Pearl's motion and the shadowing of the light coming in from the cabin's bay windows. "Ah". Snatching up his hat on his way to the door. Bill followed, optimism being shouted down by the sneaking suspicion that their spring weather luck had just run out. Just as well then that they hadn't lingered any longer over the _Godwit_.

Sure enough suspicions were confirmed by the view from the wheel deck. A roiling line of dark clouds stretching across the western horizon, squarely between them and the haven of the Caribbean. They'd just encountered the outlying unsettled gusts of wind that ran before the storm and the air was heavy with the promise of rain.

"Bugger" was Jack's only comment, but the words didn't fit the look in his eyes as he settled his hat more firmly over his dreadlocks frustrating the wind's attempts to snarl them; it settled for hopelessly tangling the interwoven trinkets.

A storm was merely another challenge to be overcome. And he was after all, Captain Jack Sparrow.

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A/N: Gah that took longer to write than I expected. That damn rum makes coherent conversation so difficult. Onwards to more chaos!


	5. The Great Sugar Ransom

A/N: Gaah, not being able to get at a computer to write stuff up sucks. But this finally got posted! Study's a bitch sometimes. Some comments in italics are sound effects and whatnot.

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"We need to take in sail!"

"Leave 'em as they are, can't hold if a course if we're not carryin' canvas!"

"We won't have any left at this rate!"

**_(Crack)_**

"Break out the t'gallant staysail spare!"

"That was the spare!"

"Oh…"

"All hands return to deck! She'll hold on what we've got. We're only a few days out…"

"Jack what the hell are you doing?"

"Not leavin' a man to die up there"

"This is insane, you just called them down!"

"Perks of rank and all. Look after me hat for me would you…"

A little under two weeks later the Pearl docked at Tortuga on less than a half spread of canvas, battered but triumphant. The storm had sent them on a sprawling loop southwards before they'd been able to crawl up the coast and in to the relative calm west of the Antilles. By some miracle there'd been no further crew losses beyond a broken leg to a man who'd delayed too long and been caught in the sheets when a half furled sail tore free. The only reason it hadn't been fatal was that Jack had ignored his own orders, climbing the rigging to bring the man down. Gaskin swore afterwards that Jack has talked to the ship, telling her to let them both go, they were trying to help. When asked, Jack had simply smiled and commented "Like soothing a frightened horse, mate. It's the tone that matters. People'll hear all kinds of things under pressure"

With the Pearl docked for repairs up coast from the seething mayhem that was Tortuga township, (the town's craftsmanship was the kiss of death to any vessel) and the crew happily docked within said mayhem, the only matter remaining was getting rid of that sugar and paying out bonuses before the crew spent all the bloody gold. And while it meant delaying the delights of Tortuga for a few more days Jack confidently explained to Caspian and the crew members drafted for the job there were better profits to be gained from visiting this particular buyer-its former owner. It was amazing what you could learn from reading another man's paperwork, renewed your whole faith in a higher education it really did.

The owner in question, Augustus Hollingford, had received an entirely unexpected visitor one evening via a third story window and as predicted had become far more attached to the value of sugar when informed that the rest of the cargo had suffered a sudden change of ownership and wouldn't be making its intended port of call; and that really wasn't it such a little step from smuggling luxuries to selling your produce to a non-British colony, such an action incidentally being the only readily available method of gaining the means to keep said smuggling channel open come next season in light of this temporary setback?

Someone else could handle the actual transfer but the expression on the man's face during negotiations had been worth the trip. Even vacating the premises had gone mostly according to plan. Except for the dogs.

"You could have paid someone to handle this" Caspian growled as they retraced their steps at speed through the undergrowth to the cove containing (hopefully) the return boat to Tortuga, trying to ignore the annoyingly persistent sounds of pursuit.

"Man likes to take a personal interest sometimes. Anyway, it's cheaper this way. Toss some of this around will you? It'll help to lose those bloody dogs after this stream"

"You are mad, Jack Sparrow"

"That's, **_(splash, scramble)_** _Captain_ Jack Sparrow"

"Aye. But this will be our last job together Captain, when payment has been settled".

Bugger. Bill had been right, dammit. Jack wasn't entirely surprised although he'd been hoping the results from the Godwit might have made the mate reconsider. He had a suspicion Caspian wouldn't be the only one either. Well, finding the right crew took time…

Perhaps The Great Sugar Ransom was not the most glorious of pirating tales but its conclusion did involve large quantities of money which in turn provided rum, women and the need to not have to think about such mundane matters as the finding of new crew for at least a couple of weeks. And glorious tales, well it all depended on how you told 'em really.

"Captain Jack, I was beginning to worry you'd never come"

"Pressures of command, darlin', and all that. And did I mention the hurricane? No doubt stirred up by some terrible sea beastie. Blotted out the sun, sailed through waves 30 feet high to make it back here we did. A testament to the superlative helmsmanship of a captain if I do say so myself"

"I've always admired your 'helmsmanship'. But I hope you won't forget me when you have found your fame?"

As if he could Jack thought, watching her as clothing gave way to skin under the soft light of the candles, her eyes luminous as a cat's reflecting their flickering glow. Gods a man could drown in them, swirls of blue and green like the sea viewed from the highest reaches of a ship's mast. Selene had been in Tortuga well before he ever showed up and was just as skilled at her craft as he would be (was!) at his.

"You don't need to fish for compliments love, I won't ever forget ye'" with a flourish Jack produced an intricately worked silver pendant set with a single tiny sapphire strung on a fine chain. A memento of Mr. Hollingford's hospitality; maybe it was ridiculously generous, but who cared?

"Jack it's beautiful"

"Matches your eyes. Well it's true! S'not my fault you've heard it before"

"This is a generous offer you know…" Slipping it around her neck as she says this, she certainly isn't going to refuse it; putting a sway into her walk, inviting him to take what he's paid for.

"Don't worry luv, I like bein' one of your best customers" Pulling her down onto the bed trailing kisses down her neck as his hands trail elsewhere, as she reaches up to rid him of a troublesome shirt.

To the uninformed it might have seemed that Captain Jack Sparrow achieved nothing over the next two weeks beyond enjoying half the ladies, several of the lads, and nearly every ale house in Tortuga. Largely this was true, but drunkenness was a comfortable state for Jack, it helped him to think while making people less likely to notice him doing so. Individuals had been noted, offers of employment had been made; enough that he was confident that they'd be at full crew strength when they left port. As for the matter of first mates he'd been listening to talk on that matter as well, and observing, while a tad more sober. Which is how he came to be sitting at a table at 'The Mermaid's Scales' waiting for the face and name on his mind to arrive.

Barbossa.


	6. Enter Barbossa

This very short chapter was brought to you by obnoxious university work.

Reviews are loved! Especially feedback as to whether I should keep going with this storyline. I promise it's going somewhere that actually relates to the summary ;D

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Bill and Grapple casually rose from the table at Jack's nod in the direction of the door and comment of "Time to mingle, gents"; making their separate ways to the bar as if they were on their own time. Barbossa's men were doing the same so now they'd all try to ignore each other while simultaneously trying to gauge how negotiations were going. 

He was young, Barbossa thought making his way to the room's corner, his dreadlocked hair done up like a strumpet's trinket holder; yet there was an air of confidence about him that didn't give a damn for anything the world's conventions had to say. Seemed to deliver on bringing in the swag, although opinion was divided on whether his 'plans' were genius or madness; never bloody simple. Rumour had it that Bootstrap Bill was sailing with him, he'd heard that name the odd time back north; sounded like the man's tastes in crew had changed or perhaps Sparrow wasn't as crazy as some would have him.

His ship, ah now she was a beauty, all the talk agreed on that. She was too, Barbossa had seen her; black with the stain of the devil himself if you believed the stories of how Sparrow had gotten her. He didn't.

Barbossa? Been in this life a damn long while, good sailor, best kind o' bastard to have on yer crew. Heard he's had himself a ship, showed up 'bout a month back him and some others off a boat from up north. Why's he back down this way? Who knows, who cares? Well Jack for one, since Bill had bloody well refused again to take up the first mate's job. Same reasoning; and he claimed Jack made things difficult.

Still he and the man pulling up a chair at the table both knew this meeting wouldn't be happening if they both hadn't had enough questions answered already to know that there'd likely be an offer made and accepted at the end of the conversation.

"Captain Sparrow"

"Barbossa. Drink?" an extravagant gesture indicating one of the two mugs on the table. Rum, good quality too Barbossa noted, savouring the rich after burn. Worth a fortune in Europe and yet here you could find it in any scum dive tavern in a pirate port.

"Reminds me why I came back" he mused, raising the mug in acknowledgement.

"Why's that then?"

"Because England is cold and stinking this time o' year, and I find myself looking for new opportunities Captain. I hear you're seeking a first mate, and you won't find a man in port better skilled for that role"

"Aye, I'm looking. And ye won't find a finer ship in the Caribbean to sail on than the _Black Pearl_. She's a swift beauty; she'll dance through anything the world tries to throw at us"

"From the once I saw her, she's quite a lady" Captains bragged about their ships, it was expected, be it a ship-of-the-line or a leaking fishing sloop. And would-be crew with half a brain knew when to contribute their own flattery.

Sparrow tilted his head in curiosity "No desire for your own command mate? Caribbean's fair bursting with possibilities for those who want 'em". Translation: Are you plannin' on jumping ship or stabbing me in the back two months down the way?

"Eventually perhaps, but the Caribbean and its opportunities aren't going anywhere and it's not a challenge I desire currently" It was true Barbossa realised as he said it, for now he was happy not to be the one the buck stopped with. "And after all I wouldn't want to pass up the chance of treading the decks of the _Black Pearl._ I've comrades seeking places if you're lookin' to take on crew as well"

"How many?"

"Four, and meself"

Sparrow looked intently at him for a long moment, measuring the intentions behind the words. Barbossa let him see what he would. He didn't envy the position, offering a stranger this sort of authority with your crew, not a good sign if you couldn't advance one of your own. Snap decisions, no second chances, but then only a fool expected anything else from a pirate's life…

Then Sparrow grinned "Well mate, I reckon we can find enough room on the crew for you and yours. Single shares for the men, share and a half for yourself and we sail in three days time. Do we have an accord?"  
"Aye Captain Sparrow, we do"

"Capitol" The rum bottle was swept up and mugs refilled. "To the _Black Pearl_, and all the swag she can ever hold"

"To the _Pearl_" Wondering fleetingly where this course would lead Barbossa decided that he didn't care. Captaincy or no he'd always hunted for challenges, and this offer fair gleamed with it.

"Take what you can" raising his tankard once more, he saw the same look flare in Sparrow's eyes as if the man's thoughts mirrored his own. Challenging each other, or the whole damn world, right now it didn't matter.

"Give nothing back!"


	7. Dancing the rigging

A/N: Hopefully only one more chapter before this story becomes about what I said it was going to be about in the summary. Should I keep going on it? We love reviews! ;D

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Jack emerged on deck, shading his eyes against the hard edges of the early morning light. The morning was utterly clear, but with the Caribbean who knew what might be falling from the sky in ten minutes time? Watching the press of activity though it seemed that for now luck was with them. Not only had they made up crew losses but with the arrival of Barbossa's men they now had extra manpower. Barbossa himself had spent most of the evening walking over or through every inch of the _Pearl_, observing, saying little; they'd learn who he was soon enough. The crew would sort out the rest of the introductions among themselves, Bill would have already scattered the new arrivals amongst the watches. 

He could tell that Barbossa was right about the competence of the men he'd brought with him-Khoeler, Twigg, Deveaux, Leopard-a huge man, ritual scarring decorating his dark skin. He'd initially given his name as 'Bo'sun', as an actual name not just a role. When Jack had pointed out that role wasn't used onboard the _Pearl_ and that it might be a mite confusing yelling out for a non-existent officer he'd received an inscrutable stare for a long moment followed by a quiet suggestion of 'Leopard'. Barbossa had raised an eyebrow at that, commenting to Jack that he'd never volunteered anything before, simply answering to whatever name the crew had landed him with. Jack hoped no Gods-damned fool would try to come up with something clever. Like 'Spots'.

Short and Jacoby would work out, provided Jacoby's talents could be directed towards damaging their enemies and not destroying the _Pearl_ during 'experimentation'. As for the last two, well…

"Captain, we're squared away and ready to make sail" Bill came over from where he'd been dragging the opening watch into order as the rest of the crew started to drift on deck, no doubt waiting for some inspiring piece of nonsense.

"But…" Bill paused. Jack raised an eyebrow.

"Pintel and, what's his name, Ragetti. Jack why'd you take them on?"

"They work well together"

"And they're hopeless on their own, I've heard stories"

"So keep 'em together on duty, just, not in the rigging. Put 'em on one of the gunnery crews"

Bill blinked. "A pair of misfits who've been stuck in Tortuga for months while one of them's been laid up with fever after losin' an eye and you want them manning the guns?"

"Pintel reckoned they had a good eye for it, granted they're one short now, but look at it this way; maybe they'll bring a new perspective to things. Mr Barbossa!" Jack called, turning his attention to the man just emerging on deck "Are we ready to make sail?" "Aye Captain, below decks are clear"

"Well then gents, I think it's time we charitably relieved civilization of its overburden of riches. Hoist sail and cast off!"

Amidst the general yells, cheers and chaos Bill watched as Barbossa called instructions as if he'd been among the crew for months rather than hours. The man was used to command no question, and there'd been a look in his eyes when he'd first stepped onto the boards of the _Pearl_ that reminded Bill of the look on Jack's face the night all of this had started, when she'd been running before them under another name. "She's got the wrong man at her helm" Jack had murmured, never taking his eyes from her as the distance between them narrowed.

Maybe an omen, Bill spat over the side; and maybe he was just being paranoid. It was good to be heading out again, and he'd a feeling that they'd make something of this voyage.

----------------------

They sailed out heading for 'civilisation' and for a season that proved to be eventful. Quartering back and forth across the inner Caribbean in between forays along both coasts. Jack being Jack was nearly always willing to chart a longer circuitous route in exchange for gaining the element of surprise on whatever hapless target vessel they'd sighted. Night raids were a favourite. This also resulted in dancing with a much greater number of storms than most sane captains would want to but somehow they always made it through. Bill had grown used to this from Jack by now; he knew the risk taking was more carefully thought through than the crew might give him credit for. They simply put it down to 'mad Jack', the more superstitious would occasionally mutter that the _Black Pearl_ must be protected by the devil hisself from storms. If only they knew…

The new crew had settled in well, aside from a few shakedown issues. Barbossa played no favourites with the crew he'd brought with him, his loyalty clearly to Jack; he'd watched with a hint of amusement though when Khoeler and Jacoby had had it made very clear that orders stating that rape and other entertainments did not happen during or after raids were not simply the old hands gulling the new recruits.

"On your own time gents or on another ship" had been Jack's final statement, seemingly entirely unconcerned that this clash of wills was taking place in front of an audience of a number of townsfolk corralled in the courtyard of what passed for their fort. Someone in this audience had rashly decided to use the moment to break free; two heartbeats later he'd been dropped like a stunned ox thanks to a fist sized rock to the side of the head. No one had seen exactly where Jack had acquired the rock from, but it did leave his pistol still loaded and casually close to hand.

"Don't take that as a sign to presume on me good nature mate" Jack said calmly into the silence, directing his remarks at large to all present. There were no more direct challenges after that, and if you could never be sure that nothing slipped past the officer's notice it had to have been bloody short. Hardly worth the effort said the darker corner of Bill's mind that he kept locked down far more tightly these days since, well, his tastes had changed.

Well before that first season was over Barbossa and Jack understood one another in a way that occasionally had Bill wondering what might have been if he hadn't been so adamant in refusing Jack's offer to be first mate. Barbossa had managed to convince Jack not to actually carry out his mad scheme to board-in the middle of a storm- the battered maerchantman they'd been shadowing for a day and a half. A few hours later the tempest had blown itself out and they'd had her without a fight. Four days later the two of them had planned a raid on a coastal settlement whose harbour had by happy chance been stuffed (for its size) with ships that had had Bill muttering about 'insanity'. It had been, but it had worked.

Two weeks after that it had been Barbossa's turn to mutter darkly when Jack and Bill decided to refit an old plan and go calling on the private harbour of a plantation owner who made a tidy profit bringing in goods directly for the surrounding area. They'd staged a land and sea ambush and set fire to a surprising amount of the plantation in the process as a diversion.

And so it went on, until there was as much trust between them as you ever found in a pirate crew and more than in most. That first season had been wild but full of swag, charged by a sense of fierce, unspoken competition that burned between the three of them although none of them could have said just what the prize was or even the rules. But they were all dancing the rigging and you couldn't just step away and return to the safety of the deck. Each of them trying to come up with the next challenge, trying to beat even the craziest of Jack's notions and yet have it so watertight that it couldn't be sunk and replaced by someone else's plan. The name of the _Black Pearl_ was starting to be on many people's lips…

----------------------

That summer they went further afield, visiting the African coast and the luxury-laden ships traveling down from the continent. Luxuries sold anywhere if you had time and the freedom to travel, and could stop your crew trying to nick the best pieces, the coast's main commodity didn't offer this freedom.

"The trade's legal, so much effort for no extra profit. 'Sides slave markets make Tortuga look like the Queen's palace mate, and you'll never get the smell out of the holds" was Jack's claimed reasoning behind refusing that traffic in live cargo; however he also took great enjoyment in ensuring that many ships were in no condition after an encounter to acquire any further cargo at all.

"Too much effort for something that's always in demand, and yet Captain ye'll sail through three days and two storms to take a prize without a shot" Barbossa commented as they sat on the sand of some unnamed African cove, the _Pearl_ silhouetted blacker than her name against the sunset, and listened to the furious argument going on amongst various crew members as to the finer details of spit roasting or smoking an entire zebra. Or two.

"Any man can turn pirate, lookin' to take what he can by force until his luck runs out; all ye'r fighting against's the other man. But to take it with a bit o' style along the way, that's against your own mind, much better challenge. An' a lady like the _Pearl_" a hand holding a bottle weaved in the general direction of the bay "it'd be a criminal waste not to sail her to the reputation she deserves, not just one of a common thief" Jack cocked his head on one side, squinting into the slowly fading light "Luxuries fit much better into a hold anyways, I'd swear the water'll be coming in the gunports next time she leans there's that much swag in her" After a moment, "Or p'raps that bilge leak isn't as fixed as it could be"

"I'll have it sorted tomorrow Captain" She was sitting fine to his eye so it was probably nothing, but Jack wasn't exaggerating (much) about their recent fortunes.

"Captain" Bootstrap approached from the crowd by the fire, which was now giving off a lot of smoke and a…unique odour. "Dinner is…ready, an' the crew are waiting for you to do the honours" Bill's face was determinedly neutral. Jack sniffed dubiously before turning to Barbossa whose face now mirrored Bill's.

"Aye, first choice of the spoils to the Captain, best not to break a system that works after all, Captain"

Jack scowled at them both as poker faces fought not to break before heading in the direction of the smoke where a grotesque parody of a pantomime horse show involving four (no five?) crewmen and two zebra skins was now taking place. Poisoned by one's own crew, not a glorious way to go. Weevils were going to be finding their way into certain officer's rations for the next little while…


	8. That summons thee to Heaven

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A/N: Good grief this chapter took ages to happen but it's good to finally get something up so I hope it's fun. A thesis and international travel will do that. 

(Preview note. In our next chapter: Doom! Yaay! We like Doom. Doom is fun to write.)

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**Ch. 8 "It is a knell, that summons thee to Heaven…"**

The following season had been harder. It had taken less than two weeks for the crew to unanimously declare that "Fair" England was still cold and stinking (regardless of whether they'd ever previously visited or not), and that the navies of the Mediterranean were entirely too enthusiastic about their work. No-one had been sorry when they'd put their rudder to the continent and charted an early return to the warmth of the Caribbean and, well technically the same navies they'd been dodging all winter but at least you could be warm while you did so. And the rum was better. And cheaper.

It hadn't all been lean pickings and narrow escapes however, and chance had thrown a few items across their path which to Jack's magpie eye for the bizarre had been quite interesting indeed if a man knew what to do with them…  
Which is why for the third time that week Bill and Barbossa found themselves 'minding the boat' up the swamp end of some creek on the rejected-by-civilisation side of some island waiting for Jack to conclude negotiations. On what they had no idea.

"This is the last time" Barbossa growled, flicking his eyes to the lone shack balanced precariously on poles above the current, and well aware that the surrounding snarl of jungle was concealing any number of watchful eyes of their hosts. "Tearing up half the bloody Spanish coast for the scrawlings on that fucking rag and now here"  
"Apparently our last stop before we left turned up something" Bill replied, playing devil's advocate although his thoughts were starting to echo the first mate's. Jack had been cagey about what was on that canvas map(?) ever since he'd acquired it from some Spanish ship they'd sacked, while being determined to ferret out its secrets. While the crew was pleased to be back they weren't happy at apparently pointless side trips when there was an entire Caribbean to be plundered.  
Barbossa started to reply with something unrepeatable that was cut short when an eerie wailing chant drifted from the ramshackle hut, dissonant echoes reflecting off the dense vegetation. There was a twitchy silence, fortunately broken by the appearance of Jack on the balcony above with a wave that would have been melodramatic from virtually anyone else. "Back to the _Pearl_ gents, we'll conclude our negotiations and be off".

They parted with a fair quantity of supplies to the islanders who'd followed them downstream, received the goods with a nod and left; their canoes gliding silently upriver. Only then had Jack called the impatient crew topsides, Bill leaning against the railings at the base of the quarter deck steps, Barbossa alongside Jack, his face hiding the fact that he, like everyone else had no idea about the scheme Jack was about to propose.  
"We've a treasure to be hunting men" Jack opened, into a mood of about-bloody-time. Whatever it was it had better be good.  
"Treasure that no man living today has ever laid eyes on, an' when we take it there'll be no-one who will not have heard of the _Black Pearl_ and her crew. A treasure that not even Cortez 'imself ever held in his hands. Today" Jack paused, "we set sail for the Ilsa de la Muerta!"

There was a stunned silence. Then the shouting began.

Everyone knew the legend. Blood money destined for Cortez from a dying race, until they knew that not even that would save them. The stone chest, the island that couldn't be found unless you knew where it was. And oh yes one more thing. The curse of the Gods that lay on every coin of that treasure. Bill didn't envy Barbossa the task of keeping an expression on his face that said Of-course-the-first-mate-knows-about-this-plan, and not The-Captain-is-insane-and-I-am-going-to-shoot-him. Some among the crew were less shy about voicing this opinion; it was a fool's chase for a ghost treasure. Others pointed out, why lie? It was easy enough to figure out, island where it should be equals good, no island equals bad.  
"And what about the curse?" There was laughter, jeering, but also muttering. Pirates were as superstitious as the next sailor and one never knew when it might suddenly become important.  
_"What you seek. That hate does not die" _Jack ignored the voice from that hut upriver and laughed with the rest. "Ghost stories of dead gods. And what does the Black Pearl have to fear from a curse. Wouldn't be the first we've had sent to us now would it gents?"  
More laughter, and when the vote came the deck rang with a chorus of 'Aye!'s. Jack had not yet steered them wrong, well nothing unsalvageable anyway, and for that they were willing to believe in the treasure at least.  
"Set sail, weigh anchor, and find us a vessel willing to generously donate supplies to our cause!"

"Well Captain" Barbossa said, coming to stand beside Jack at the wheel "It seems you've managed to surprise us all on this one. Never thought I'd see a day to be thankin' the Spanish" "No need to be thankin' 'em mate unless you like only havin' half the story. The pretty rag's useless without a touch of local knowledge"  
"Ah. Your regular supplier of ghost stories then?"  
"Think of it as helpful information on the whereabouts of swag that no-one else will be lookin' to acquire"  
"Curses do have a way of doin' that" Jack's expression was, not exactly smug, more gleeful at once again throwing predictability to the winds, but Barbossa heard in his own voice an undertone of you-could-have-warned-us.  
Jack didn't miss it either, one eyebrow lifted in surprise. "Superstitious?" Choosing to answer only the spoken comment. Barbossa snorted, shifting his voice to unconcern. "Dead gods as you say. And I'd be a fool to be believing a tale confirmed by no-one".  
Jack laughed, not missing the reference. He was steadfastly evasive whenever asked about the truth of the rumours concerning the _Pearl_ and her origins, and yet somehow the tales continued to circulate…  
"Then it's lucky ye'll be getting the chance to confirm this one. And think of the tales they'll be tellin' _after_ this little venture" Jack's dark eyes were filled with a fiercely covetous look that few would have realized was not for the prospect of the treasure haul but for the chance to be the first to chart a new horizon and pull it off. As if on cue the _Pearl_ rolled impatiently under them, tugging at her moorings.  
Barbossa's lip twitched in a half smile "Aye there is that. I'll see to getting us underway. Captain". Perhaps Jack was right, there was something in the winds carrying them on this hunt that promised change. And if the crew hadn't sensed it, the _Pearl_ was as skittish as a half trained colt, keeping them all on their toes as they made for open water in the falling dusk.

Only Bill noticed the one brief flickering shift of Jack's mask of confidence to a look Bill had come to know over the years, Jack had concocted and embarked on some mad scheme whose end he had yet to work out the finer details of. Or any details at all. He had a suspicion on at least one something that had yet to be mentioned."Anything else on the witch's demand list that we ought to be keepin' a lookout for?" Bill asked casually, stepping up to Jack's side at the wheel as they ran holding patterns through the night across a shipping lane favoured by smaller traders; with luck morning would bring a helpfully unwary target.  
"Well she did mention she was fond of turnips unlikable objects as they are, so if you'd be good enough to keep an eye out-"  
"Jack. Their price is never simply 'normal' goods. What did she really want?"  
"A liking for turnips seems to my mind to be entirely indicatory of unnatural tastes mate, yet fortuitously it provided an opportunity to solve a multitude of problems via negotiations to free our stores of their dubious influence" Bill simply looked at him. Jack rolled his eyes and huffed "It's been paid mate, already. Measure of blood, no idea what for, said something about an inkwell-"  
"What!! Jack you're not serious, what were-" Bill stopped, assuming the expression on his face had prompted Jack's roar of laughter.  
"Trinkets mate. A few things she liked, thought they might come in handy someday. Nothing to worry about" _"That token you wear Jack Sparrow. It is of you and of your ship. As payment" _(_Nothing? Shut it_. Jack informed his inner voice)

Bill didn't miss that flicker of expression again, but he also didn't miss the look replacing it on Jack's face that warned him against pushing any further. Always a friend, but always the Captain. Well Bootstrap Bill if you wanted security you should have run back home to England and…oh wait you didn't want that did you? So are you going to pirate or fret your way through this round of the game? Internal thoughts were not known for their sense of fair play. Like pirates really.  
"Tell me Captain" he said with grin that threw its considerable support to the "Pirate" option "what do you think the going rate is on Aztec gold these days?"


	9. Or to Hell

**Chapter 9.**

**"…Or to Hell"**

The mist was still low enough to almost conceal within it the two motionless vessels, but starting to rise from where it lay draped across the water as the piercing early morning sun burned its way through to illuminate the drama taking place across their decks.

Sometimes less damage was better than more Jack noted as his feet touched the deck of the _Eleanore Bell_. Especially if you wanted to have anything left to plunder at the end of an engagement. Instead a lucky early shot to the rigging had sent a snapped stay line scything across the quarterdeck of their prey killing the man at the helm. She'd slipped off the wind and faltered turning the _Pearl's_ next broadside from half successful into a crippling direct hit.

"Mr. Barbossa! Stay above, secure the deck!" Jack yelled. The first mate's reply was lost in the roar of noise as the _Pearl's_ crew poured aboard but Jack caught a glimpse of an acknowledging wave. It was going to be a messy affair topsides, most of the crew were going to be needed for the main objective of this chaos-getting below to the cargo hold preferably by yesterday. They may have boarded her easily enough but it was going to be touch and go whether they could salvage anything of value before she foundered.

"Bring the rest!" Jack bellowed as Bill arrived with the last of the _Pearl's_ gunners. What was left of the forward hatch was buried under a pile of debris, with the crew a knot of violence around them they headed aft.

The lower deck was a ruin; two of its three light guns would likely never see service again, barrels, crates and their contents were strewn brokenly around the cramped space making footing treacherous, movement more so. There'd been brief resistance at the entrance; the confusion created by several barrels being pitched through the hatch and precisely blown to splinters before they hit the deck by Jacoby's blunderbuss skills had taken care of that.

The charred remains of a bolt of silk turned Jack's retreating step as he swept aside his opponents gut high thrust into a stumbling three that sent him circling around a pile of crates miraculously still intact. A corner of his mind registered the half dozen other such engagements surrounding them against the last of the _Bell's_ crewmen who'd attempted to pin them before they could reach the storage hold; he could only trust that Bootstrap and the rest were taking of business below. Jack set his shoulder against a crate sending it tumbling with a satisfying crash and leaping over the remains as it was his opponent's turn to retreat. Metal screeched as they traded feints and short thrusts, the crowding of the hull and ceiling promising death to the first to over commit. He heard Elias' howl and risked a glance towards the sound. Nearby Ratlines sent a knife into the throat of his man before turning to engage Elias' would-be slayer. The _Bell's_ surviving crewman had abandoned their attempts to hold the hatch to the storage hold; reinforcements wouldn't be arriving for them, and were falling back to the bow to make a final stand by the cargo-or cabin area? Interesting.

Jack shoved hard at his opponent's blade driving the man back towards the bow, parrying and weaving to circle the fight one way then the other to hold his ground as he waited for an opening. Then it worked, perhaps unaware of where they'd ended up the man swung his blade a shade too wide, its tip scraping the wood of a ship's rib in a fatal instant of delay. With a grin of triumph Jack seized the moment as his next thrust took the man through the chest. Casting a fuller glance around the deck he saw only Ratlines and Mallock remaining, the rest had headed below. Elias was slumped against the hull, still alive for now. Well if he was still alive when they left they'd try to pick him up, if not…

The momentary quiet indicated that Barbossa and Bootstrap had taken care of their ends, leaving a few brief moments to satisfy curiosity. Waving the others over Jack picked his way across the deck to the bow and settled for the simple search technique of smash lock, kick open door, starting with the nearest. It yielded readily but onto nothing but tiny, cramped cabin space. Bugger. Perhaps not worth the effort after all. Then the sound of another door receiving similar treatment was followed by a brief, muffled cry of fright and Ratlines' gleeful whoop "We got spoils here Capt'n!" Oh hell. Over the man's shoulder Jack saw another, nearly identical tiny cabin. Except that this one was occupied by three, no four women jammed on the narrow bunk as far away from the door as they could get. An older, matron in the centre, to her left a young woman perhaps sixteen? Eighteen? Jack didn't need to see Ratline's face to know the leer undoubtedly sitting across it right about now. And to the woman's right huddled two girls who couldn't have been more than seven. Wide eyes like trapped rabbits. Four ashen faces stared at him, paper thin composure covering terror on the adults' faces. Barely. Oh _buggering_ hell. The moment froze as two courses of action hollered in Jack's head, the first being to simply close the door, collect the supplies, and walk away. Simple. Smart. Ship's going to sink out from under you Jack if you don't get a move on. How long d'you think a longboat'll last out here before they're found? Walk away. If they're found. Walk away.

Shouldering Ratlines aside, Jack refused to dwell on the possibility that this might just be the stupidest decision he'd ever made. "Ladies" he opened "It is indeed a great shame to be making your acquaintances under such circumstances, but it appears that your ship will be sinking in the very near future, therefore you will, as of now, be accompanying me on my ship"

"If the ship is to sink, then we shall take our chances with it, sir" the words came tautly from the older woman's throat. Oh Gods. Why were women always like this in these sorts of circumstances? Fine, play dirty. After all, pirate.

"I'm sure it's a very noble and moral decision, God'll be very proud of ye, suffer the little children and all that but I'm afraid you're of no use to anyone dead, so please don't be mistaking my instructions for suggestions". With half an eye on the cabin's occupants in case any improvised weaponry decided to make an appearance Jack reached forward to grab the nearest small and hustle her into Ratlines' surprised grasp, halting the young woman's protective half lunge with an admonitory cutlass gesture. The look of mute hatred in her eyes in response to his raised eyebrow and nod towards the door could have killed at twenty paces, but (finally!) they filed out in silence, taking care of a small one apiece.

"Take them to the _Pearl_, put 'em in the brig, and get yer asses back here in five minutes" Jack ordered to Mallock "And pass the word, any man so much as looks at them sideways without my say so will be chattin' to Davy Jones the moment this hulk trails our stern".

Jack took advantage of the break in the human chain sending supplies to the upper deck that the women's departure caused to seek out Bill whose face appeared at the storage hold hatch, decked with grime and blood, little of it his own it seemed. He didn't comment at the sight of the women although his look spoke volumes; time was running short.

"What have we got?"

"Not great, but it's enough Captain"

"Right, get 'em up on deck to get it onboard. And send someone to pick up Elias from the bow if he's still alive".

Blood and bodies, including more of their own than Jack would have liked, added to the carnage on deck. Barbossa, upright despite the gory rag decorating his right leg was shouting directions for storage to those crew returned to the _Pearl_. The few half-dead survivors from the _Bell_ posed no threat but the ship herself was settling heavily, showing signs of a starboard list. When that happened they'd want to be well clear, so no chance of investigating the captain's cabin. Pity.

The majority of the goods were still stacked haphazardly across the _Pearl's_ deck when they cut free, and their sorting and stowing kept the rest of the crew not already on duty busy; giving Jack time to inspect the haul, ensure his orders concerning the women had been followed and engage in a little cabin redecoration. A hatch from the main cabin lead to a snug room below, converted to sleeping quarters. A short time later linen approximating clean had been produced, potentially exciting pointed and blunt objects had been removed and the hatch lock was re-rigged to lock from the outside. That being done, Jack tracked down Bill at the wheel, Barbossa having been sent off duty with the rest of the walking and non-walking wounded. They'd lost five to that engagement including Elias; the others as a result of the top deck action. Still the sailing should be straightforward for the next days, and they were chasing a prize that would see them in comfort long enough to heal anything.

"So, do we eat for the next few weeks then?"

"Aye" Bill replied "Nothing fancy but we'll manage. Even with the extra mouths to feed, Captain"

Well that didn't take long. "I assume no-one in our fine collection of miscreants is blind or stupid enough not to have heard about our unexpected guests?"

"Oh they know. And they've expectations. Of entertainment". Bill's eyes were worried, he also clearly expected Jack to have a solution to avoid trouble. "What's your plan for this Jack?"

Plan? Oh yes those were what you came up with to make things run smoothly. "For starters, we move 'em. My quarters. Removing temptation and all that. Send 'em on once we hit port again. Four women, private passage on a fine goods merchantman, should bring us enough to make it work out. "As for the rest" Jack waved a hand "Hell's teeth we're after the Isla de la Meurta! When this is over they can have the run of every brothel in the Caribbean for the next three months; the _Pearl's_ code stands". Silence. "They're bloody wee things, Bill. Didn't seem-"Jack's mouth twitched at Bill's look at the irony of his next word "'fair' to leave 'em to that just 'cause a brilliant strategy went a tad pear shaped. Leopard!" gesturing the near-silent man to the quarterdeck "Hold her steady on this course 'til Mr. Turner comes to relieve ye".

"Aye Captain. Hold her steady".

"Mr. Turner, we have 'cargo' to shift".

* * *

There was movement from the larger of the brig's open cells as Jack and Bootstrap reached the _Pearl's_ storage deck. Crew didn't come down here without a reason so the area actually offered more privacy than most of the ship. The leaks weren't too bad at the moment either, or the smell; having been (temporarily) dealt with when they'd stocked up on supplies just before heading upriver. The girl stood warily, watching them approach; behind her the older woman (Jack simply put her down as 'governess') sat, her back against the hull, with half an eye on him and the rest on the two smalls huddled with their heads in her lap and apparently asleep. He had to give them credit for their composure, despite his orders they'd no doubt been on the receiving end of comments that would have been crude at best.

"Ladies, my name is Captain Jack Sparrow, welcome aboard the _Black Pearl_. Apologies for the delay, but your new temporary accommodations are now available".

"And where might these be, Captain Sparrow?" her words studiously neutral.

"Finest on board miss. We're a little lacking in formal dining right now, however the Captain's quarters can offer food, wine, bedding and, privacy. And-" Jack held up a hand "There's no need for negotiations involving 'compromising of virtue' or 'fates worse than death'; ye'll come to no harm from me'self or any of the crew. My word as Captain. But we've other business at hand so yer presence here does complicate matters a tad, seems successful negotiations with those who want yer safe return as soon as possible are desirable to everyone".

"And if finances at our end are not sufficient?" As if anything other than the worst case scenario was too much to hope for. Her question didn't exactly fill him with confidence; not wise to suggest to a pirate that yer ransom's not worth the effort luv.

"Well dealin' with the authorities isn't the ideal choice and all, but then on the other hand, they're the Crown, their credit's the best you can find Miss-" Jack hesitated "may I have your name, since you're to be our guest for the next wee while?"

She looked at him for a moment "Haverstock. Miss Rebecca Haverstock" indicating the others, "Mrs. Sutcliffe, and 'Mina and Annabelle".

He was glad of Bill's non-threatening presence-the man could have been a crewman on the very merchantman they'd just left-as the girls were woken. Jack tried not to feel like a complete heel when they wouldn't look at him as they clung tearfully to the women's skirts. Captain Jack Sparrow, terror of small children.

Approximately two seconds after they reached the lower deck occupied by most of the off duty crew the first whistle came. "Shut it!" Jack shouted "There's patch duty until next watch waitin' for the next man who feels like opening his mouth!" Patch duty involved any fiddly, messy or time-consuming job required for keeping the _Pearl_ in running order that hadn't already been taken care of. There were always more jobs on the list than there were volunteers.

The crew on deck at least had the sense to keep quiet until the women had been escorted to Jack's quarters. He'd taken a whole three steps outside the cabin door before Twigg approached him as hastily picked spokesman.

"Captain, we was thinkin' since we didn't take much off our last action, that it's only fair that the crew gets a share of the spoils. Of the women." Gesturing at the aft cabin "We don't reckon their ransom'll be worth much, seems like we should get what we can, 'til we get to the Isla de la Muerta an' all". There was a mutter of agreement and accompanying grins.

"Seems to me we've had this conversation before gents, an' I don't like havin' to repeat my orders" Jack replied, pitching his voice to carry across the deck in a tone of this-is-not-a-discussion. "There'll be more swag than you know what to do with soon enough, and the business after that will be ransom. Anything else can bloody well wait until we reach port, so move yerselves and get us headin' where we should be. Understood?" The chorus of "Aye Capt'n"s that followed him to the _Pearl's_ wheel mostly served to cover the last resentful mutterings. Well more fool them if they'd been expecting anything else.

The matter stayed mercifully quiet for a couple of hours from all sides, leaving Jack to get on with figuring out their course for the next few days. Their destination wasn't in a heavily trafficked region and there were other requirements to consider…

* * *

It seemed fitting that Barbossa as the only member of the crew who hadn't yet commented was the one to raise the matter again; Jack looked up from the charts scattered across the table as his first mate entered the cabin.

"Barbossa. How's the leg?"

Barbossa shrugged "Nothing that won't be done with in a few days" His gaze flicked to the hatch in the cabin's floor as he came to what was clearly on his mind. "But Captain, on the matter o' the women, the crew aren't minded to let this one go. Seems they're not entirely satisfied with the promise of what's waitin' on the Isla de la Muerta, they'd like something a little more, 'up front' as it were".

Jack resisted the urge to scream in frustration; the tone of concern in Barbossa's voice meant he couldn't afford to ignore this entirely, his first mate wasn't one to cry wolf. "Every one of 'em knew the terms of the _Pearl's_ code when they signed on and that still stands; so it seems we're at something of an impasse as to what-" Jack paused. "And you've had something in mind since you walked through that door haven't you, so let's have it".

Barbossa nodded slowly in acknowledgement "The island. It can only be found if ye know where it is. Since it's equal shares on all treasure, seems only fair that they know where it is. Never hurts to know where you're heading after all"

Jack considered. It had crossed his mind, if reluctantly; never give up an edge you didn't have to. Still, half of them wouldn't know what to do with the information even once they had it, and if it would settle the matter…

"Fair enough, as you say" Jack gestured to the chart on top of the pile. The island stood out clearly marked, amidst a faint tracery of potential courses as yet undecided and several unnamed marked points. "You can be the first to know; tell any man who asks they can see it for themselves come sundown. Fair weather puts us there in three days, give or take".

Puzzlement momentarily crossed Barbossa's face at the time frame but then he nodded. "Aye Captain, I'll pass the word" His eyes passed over the cabin hatch again. "Should settle the matter. Do we alter course?"

"Hold her as she is for now. And-" Jack cut in "Leave Bill to handle the next couple of watches. Until then ye'll actually stay walking wounded. Light duties. For once"

Barbossa snorted. "Light duties. I'll be looking over the cargo then, if the challenge of stairs is not considered too demanding?"

"Not at all, if you've gone an' got yerself laid up with fever, again, when we reach the swag, I'll simply have Pintel and Ragetti in charge of selectin' yer share"

"That's fightin' dirty Captain"

"Just heal up for once. Helps things sail smoother"

"Smooth sailing. Aye Captain"

* * *

A flick of billowing canvas high in the rigging sent the morning sun blazing into his eyes as he stepped from the cabin, his mind a tangle of thoughts. As he stood blinking to clear the white spots flaring before him it seemed that as his vision cleared one thought rose to glare blindingly across his brain. _This is the time. The change in the wind, and balls to smooth sailing_

If he wanted it. If he was willing to take it.

* * *

Bootstrap was halfway to the cargo deck to see what apparently insurmountable problem required his attention when with out warning the _Pearl_ slewed off her heading and into the wind, bringing her to a halt as swiftly and gracefully as if she'd sailed into a cliff. With a muttered curse back the way he'd just come, the problem could wait; right now he wanted to find out what the hell had just happened before Jack came looking, the less trouble the better with the mood what it was…

Shouts of confusion, figures on the deck above, he had one hand on the hatchway stairs when a voice came from behind him "I wouldn't want to be going that way if I was you, _sir_"

Figures above, not moving but waiting he realized. And then he registered just what was being shouted and icy understanding ran down his spine.

* * *

When the _Pearl_ shuddered to a standstill amid the cracks and groans of tortured canvas and rigging Jack was halfway across the cabin without thought, his feet treating the heaving deck as others would a well paved street. As he reached for the cabin's door a brusque knock sounded, he closed his lips on a reply as it opened uninvited. Barbossa stood on the threshold, his expression closed, closely accompanied by Ratlines and Deveaux. And just for an instant something very cold and dark pricked the back of his mind.

"Mr. Barbossa it appears we have a problem with our heading, so perhaps ye'll make this brief" Jack spoke over his shoulder as if nothing was untoward, retracing his steps of a moment ago across the cabin when the reply came;

"Not so much a problem Captain as a desire for, shall we say, a change of direction. In the matter of who commands the _Black Pearl_"

Bluff alone kept him on his feet as the deck beneath him turned to quicksand, turned him around to face three strangers as of an instant ago. And to face the three pistols now pointed in his direction. "Ah. So that's how it is then"

Talk, Jack. You talk, they talk, and amidst it all you come up with something terribly clever to head off yet another crisis. That's how it works remember? Except the words wouldn't come when his gut felt as though a cannonball had torn through it leaving fragments in its wake, when its noise had left his head empty of everything but the blood pounding in his ears…circling round behind the desk as if this were a briefing just like any other, captain's desks held so many useful items you just never knew when they'd come in handy.

"And would I be right in me presumption that ye'd be lookin' to take the job yerself then?"

"Aye, that ye would. And it'd be easier all round if ye didn't try anything…stupid, Jack; after all we must honour the Code"

Voices, angry outside, then a shout that sent the world reeling under his feet again "Barbossa's callin' for parley with Captain Sparrow!"

Parley. A formal challenge, meaning they couldn't even attempt to kill each other like civilised men here and now; one way or another the crew would have their say on the matter, deny them that and it wouldn't go well. And yet, to simply walk through that door, without leverage…perhaps he couldn't touch Barbossa, but there would be a show, oh yes. That much he would take with him.

"Then ye'd best have mapped your course well"

The words came softly, blackly, even as his hand came up sweeping across the desks surface, scattering clutter, charts and inkwells into a black and soggy tangle, and snagging the door of the lantern sending its just lit contents tumbling out across it all. Deliberate fire; insanity aboard any ship, unthinkable aboard his own, his _Pearl. _At that moment he didn't care. The cabin erupted into chaos, Ratlines and Deveaux were both moving; Jack didn't wait to see what the plan was, throwing himself sideways to land in a jarring heap against both deck and hull even as the first gunshot crashed through the room. Snarling wordlessly Jack rolled, aimed and fired without thought; shouts and smoke added to the room's din. Deveaux staggered back slumping to his knees Jack dimly noted as he scrambled to his feet, a knife leaving his hand towards his other opponent; no time for thought, little enough time to snatch what he could to show the bastards' court waiting outside. Ratlines-half turned to face him, cursed and flinched as the blade sliced across his shoulder; he'd been the only one concerned by the threat of fire _(cares more for ye ship than you Jack_), a good enough crewman, but now just another against him and fair game…Jack took one step forward then found himself abruptly meeting the deck face first as something cracked against the back of his neck and a black and white flash of pain exploded across his vision. Half stunned, Jack gritted his teeth as he rolled over, blinking slowly to try and clear his vision and re-enforce the order to his brain not to pass out. The barrel of Barbossa's pistol faced him steadily from inches away. So. Show over then.

"Too much to hope ye'd take my advice Jack" Barbossa said softly

"Well perhaps it seems that such things ain't what they used to be" making a show of unconcern Jack got to his feet, thinking it a shame thoughts couldn't be straightened as easily as clothing. A deliberately leisurely look cast over the cabin (_would this be the last time he'd ever see-no. Too far ahead to think) _showed him that the flame hadn't caught between the ink and everything else, but the charts; well they'd definitely had their day. All to the good; no need to share their contents now. No point in stalling either, the next show awaited. With something approaching a grim smile that hurt to keep on his face Jack gestured towards the cabin door.

"Shall we then, gents?"

* * *

A/N: Yarrr, this ended up being way longer and taking far longer than I thought to get up, there never seemed to be a good break point. And no, it isn't going to go that simply, this is Captain Jack Sparrow, things can always get more...problematic. When I started writing this story I had it in mind that there was something more behind the story of the mutiny that we got, events that ended with the crew being seriously pissed with Jack above and beyond the usual. To find out? Keep reading! And tell me if you're still enjoying all of this. (Makes hopeful pirate face)


	10. Keep to the Code

The racket settled to a dull roar as they exited the cabin.

"Gents", Barbossa opened without preamble, "Seems to me as I hear it that the _Black Pearl_ is not being run to the satisfaction of her crew. Too much trouble, too many complications for the rewards yer seein'. And that you're wantin' a change to honest pirating with fewer 'conditions'. Easy runs, plenty o' swag, and", with a leer, "a little bit of pleasure on the side!"

Jack did his best to ignore the growing chorus of support, schooling his expression to show unconcern mixed with contempt for the pitch being made by his former ally, the only bluff that might perhaps help to turn the situation to his favour. _And where the hell was Bill? _There were others missing, others not so loyal and Jack knew he wasn't the only one who'd noted it. Various unwanted explanations tried to shove themselves to the front of his thoughts, all of them distractions he couldn't afford. _You're on your own here Jack, and the water's bloody cold._

"Do give my regards to the Port Royal headland, I hear it's a grand view when they string you up an' leave you swinging for the crows. An' that's where yer 'easy runs' will lead you, just another batch of thieving scum scrambling from one petty haul to the next 'til yer time runs out at the end of a rope. 'Complications' keep you alive an' without me not a mother's son of you would be seein' the haul that's coming at the Isle de la Meurta!" Forcing back uncertainty for anger, not a difficult trade.

"It's a fine speech Jack, and perhaps if there'd been fewer half-cocked schemes for every one that turned a profit it wouldn't have come to this" came Barbossa's amused response. "As for the Isla de la Muerta, if it's all you say we'll be sure to consider yer tactical advice. But we've only your word on this an' what good is that when ye' won't even tell the crew where it is they're heading? I will give you this!" Barbossa shouted "If ye'll have me as captain ye'll know what you're getting' into!"

"And what if there are those of us who don't take a fancy to what it is you're offerin' Barbossa?" Jack might have been embarrassed at the wave of relief he felt if he hadn't been so occupied with being relieved. Bootstrap, looking somewhat the worse for wear, emerged from the forward hatch drawing the crowd's attention like a shark sensing blood and conveniently allowing several other figures, also looking less pretty than they hadn't been to insert themselves into the crowd. Every crewman had a right to be at a general parlay, if they got through this he'd find out what the hell had gone on below.

"You've done well, more than well for as long as Captain Jack's been at the helm and ye'd throw that away for a couple of tarts in the hold? I've had better lays from tu'ppenny whores in Tortuga!" Scattered chuckles answered him. "And you seem awfully generous of a sudden Barbossa, what happened to yer words of a night back about not giving information to a 'pack who can't be trusted to remember their names half the time, let alone a course headin'!"

Bill's glare bored into Barbossa as angry muttering rolled through the crowd; Jack hoped his own face matched the arrogant confidence on Barbossa's. Bill's claim was a flat lie and at least the three of them knew it. But then the man had lied about Jack's intentions for the island's location so really it seemed only fair. How many would it sway in the next few moments? Some? Enough?

"Will ye be calling your support for Captain Sparrow over my leadership then Bootstrap? Shall we put it to a vote?" Barbossa's voice carved through the noise, killing it in an instant. Nothing but the wind in the rigging and under that a hundred tiny sounds so quiet they might be imagined, accompanying the ripples of tension running through the crew as everyone tried to size up whether the next instant would see bloodshed erupt and whether they'd be standing next to ally or enemy when it did. Everyone was watching Bootstrap, and Bootstrap was watching Jack.

Gods he wanted to. Bugger pride, he wanted to return a look that said _I can't dig me way out of this one Bill. Help me_. He'd do it if Jack asked. But he knew deep down, could feel it through his boots on the deck that he wouldn't truly win them back, likely hadn't even now. Barbossa, curse him, had picked his time perfectly. And another warning slipped an arm around his shoulders, menacing in its casualness, he could feel the hatred from Barbossa's faithful for this one hitch in their plans; however this turned out they'd do their damndest to see that Bill's name made the lists of the dead. _Don't do it Bill. Don't throw your life away for my mistake_. It hurt but he did it, returned his friend's question with a neutral look that said "It's your call" _Keep to the Code Bill. Any man that falls behind gets left behind_. Hoped Bill would understand, knew the man could read the signs as well as he could; at least this way perhaps one of them would get out of this.

After a long moment Bootstrap dropped his eyes. "No" he said, his voice bitter but resigned. "No vote".

"If there be any more objections speak now or nevermore or do you accept my proposal gents?" The triumph in Barbossa's voice matched that in his eyes, he knew there'd be no more. Shouts and whoops rang out as the tension relaxed across the deck, a cry of "The _Black Pearl_ for Cap'n Barbossa!" met with cheers as hands reached out to pull him down, jostling him into the crowd, snatching his hat (that shouldn't have hurt as much as it did, should it?) to be tossed from crewman to crewman before someone presented it to Barbossa with a grin, to more laughter. Barbossa made a show of placing it on his own head with mock solemnity before commenting "Not my style", sending it over the side with a careless toss. Jack tried to grin with them, to cling to the illusion of bravado as he was escorted below decks but it came out as grimace. Refused to listen to comments called his way, but heard in spite of himself Barbossa's orders to "Find Mr. Sparrow temporary quarters below and keep yer eyes open for a likely spot of land; cheer up Jack, we'll be findin' you your next command soon enough!"

*****

Deposited in the solo cell next to the one that only a few hours ago (or was it a lifetime?) he'd escorted the women from Jack found himself with far too much leisure time which his mind found a use for in merrily playing and replaying thoughts he'd rather not have had once; all of them determined to get their two cents worth of putting the emotional boot in. not a one had stood for him. _Well one had. And hadn't that turned out well_. Faces laughing, enjoying the show. Maybe they weren't all enthusiastic at the change of leadership but they hadn't spoken up and their indifference hit almost as hard as the scorn. Surely he hadn't lost them so far so fast? Over a woman? What had he missed and for how long? There'd been runs that had become far more 'interesting' than this one had turned out and yet mutiny hadn't slid its ugly self across the _Pearl's_ decks, like oil slicking over water. Everyone knew what to expect on this ship but he'd damn well delivered on the goods as well, offered them the fucking haul of a lifetime, why had Barbossa's words-

Barbossa. Jack couldn't tell whether anger at himself or hatred for the other man would be the first to boil over, leaving him fighting the urge lash out at something, anything, or simply howl until he went mad for a while just to see if anything would change. Staring unseeingly at the deck because it was minutely better than closing his eyes and seeing the concern that had been in Barbossa's as he suggested sharing the island's location shift to the dark triumph of those final moments on deck. Concern, betrayal. Concern, betrayal. _You were fool enough to trust his word Jack; ye saw what ye wanted to. Even gave him his own loyal following when he came aboard, perhaps ye should have thought a little clearer about that it seems to be a tad larger now. Well, seems like he fooled both of us then don't it?_ Of all the things Bill had worried about he never mentioned trouble from this quarter…

_Doesn't mean he didn't know about it though, aye?_

No. No no NO. He tried desperately to kill the thought, smother it and bury it in a dark alley somewhere in his mind. He would not, could not believe that. But it simply faded away to reappear moments later. Bill had known. Bill had betrayed him.

*****

Jack's black misery was not relieved by the return of the four women to the adjacent cell a short time later; white faced and silent, the girls almost beyond fear. "_Captain_ Barbossa sent 'em down for you to keep an eye on Jack, in case you was feelin' concerned for their wellbeing an' all. Stay outta trouble an' they'll be brightening yer view for a few more days".

"I'm sorry I wasn't able to keep my word to you Miss Haverstock" Once they were alone it seemed like he ought to apologise, however meaningless it all might be now. The ice in her eyes could have skewered him at ten paces. "It seems then our only consolation is to see that your…crew" laced with contempt "have brought you as low as we" she turned her back on him to comfort one of the girls. Jack didn't blame her, sitting back in silence with a sense of perverse curiosity as to who the next visitor would be. He doubted they'd be looking to improve things.

Barbossa half wondered why he'd come as he moved through the dimness of the lower deck. To explain? To gloat? If he didn't feel any need for the former he didn't feel any particular desire for the latter either. Silence greeted him as he stopped in front of the two cells; he was only interested in the occupants of one.

"I hope the company will compensate for the accommodations and service. I'm sure you can understand, we've been a little busy recently"

He hadn't meant to speak first; after all he wasn't the one sitting in a cell suffering a sudden and total reversal of fortunes, he didn't need to say anything if he chose. And he didn't care to be on the receiving end of silence. You had to know Jack to see through the air of unconcern the man was working hard to project, but there was a tension under his slouch, a set to his mouth Barbossa had come to recognize. Everyone's appearances had cracks today it seemed.

"Seems highly advisable then to keep a man like Bill in his current place; man's an organizational genius" Jack's eyes watched the splinter he idly picked from the deck, his comments seemingly directed to the world at large around him, his tone uncaring. And somewhat forced. "Not such a talent for mutiny and betrayal I believe, but never hurts to have someone around with an eye for making the future run smoothly, in case a man learns the limits of his own abilities".

"It's surprising the talents a man can discover when he has to, man like Bootstrap, he's a natural survivor". Wondering what role Bill played in what just happened Jack? Don't expect me to give it to you. Of a sudden Barbossa decided that he wanted to see the look in the other man's eyes. And he was willing to inflict some pain to get it.

"Ye never had that skill Jack, if you did you wouldn't be sittin' there now. But your problem Jack, your problem is that you're selfish. Carryin' on with those crazy schemes of yours, treatin' this life like it's a game made just so you can get want you want. Needin' someone to save yer hide as often as not. No crew'll follow that for ever, even someone as soft hearted as Bill. But you never learnt when to grow up. Crew want to follow someone who'll run things the real way of the world" Jack's eyes were flat with anger, fixed on the deck; his clenched jaw giving the lie to his attempts to ignore Barbossa's words. "And as for the _Pearl_" he couldn't resist that final comment "don't worry for her, I'm sure she and our other ladies will grow to appreciate the taste of a more, mature leadership-"

With a low wordless snarl Jack launched himself from his place in the corner, his hand slamming into the bars with a dull metallic thud and Barbossa almost took a step back at the fury that blazed in dark eyes inches from his own. But he didn't; instead stood and watched as the fire died to cold despair, until hollow bravado alone kept Jack meeting his gaze. He could have held it until even that cracked, but he'd made his point, leaving with a smile.

Jack couldn't have said how much time had passed before he'd moved from the bars in unseeing silence to his spot against the hull.

*****

Three days passed in a bleak blur. Jack had ignored all crewmen and spoken only to pass the lion's share of his food and water to the women, his thoughts drifting over little or more often nothing. And he'd watched Bootstrap. Not obviously, Barbossa seemed to have found enough reasons for Bootstrap to be down in the hold that he couldn't avoid, but they were only ever on the edge of each other's peripheral vision. But Jack knew when he was being watched. And he tracked Bill in return, not for any good reason; it was like scratching a half-healed wound. But he did it anyway.

The morning of the fourth day proved to be more interesting. It should have provided an island deserving of the name Ilsa de la Muerta visible in the general area but it didn't. It did provide a number of sandbars too temporary to be marked on any chart that had managed to last long enough to acquire some vegetation here and there. And scattered amongst these were three British Navy frigates that seemed far too interested in the presence of a lone ship in such an area that might possibly, for example, be a useful spot to evade pursuit if, hypothetically, one had been conducting 'business' in one of the more reputable shipping lanes a couple of days away. They wanted to speak with the _Pearl_, and they weren't inclined to take no for an answer.


	11. Fear in a handful of dust

**Ch 11. Fear in a handful of dust**

The shouted orders weren't clear but Jack didn't need them to know that the situation had abruptly changed. He could feel it in the roughness of the _Pearl's_ course change, in the tension that shivered through the hull; she was running hard, and away from something.

"Miss Haverstock, a hairpin or similar if you please". She stared at him. "This may be your only opportunity to leave these less than ideal circumstances and the window is likely to be extremely limited. So-" he snapped his fingers, after a moment she passed him a finger and a half long, solid and very pointed hatpin. Bloody hell. Take a note, in future check unexpected onboard female company for dangerous items. Still it made a fine companion to the lone lockpick he'd happened to have on him for some reason or other and made the cell door the work of a moment. Jack knew his way round and through every lock on the ship, could have done this at any time, he just hadn't seen any point; until now. Shouting carried much more clearly to the base of the stairs. Ah. British Navy; those conversations rarely went well. No bloody rum for starters. Dubious waters, that should make this little cat-and-mouse game a bit more challenging; they'd never catch the _Pearl_ in the open but first they had to get there. _If he had the helm- no. Forget that, no time for that in yer head now_; his mind seemed awake for the first time over the last few days even if the actions running through it fell into the category of 'insane'. He returned to the cells and unlocked the women's.

"Ladies, there is a way to get you off this ship and with a lot of luck into one of those charming Navy tubs currently following us at speed; it is dangerous and we shall get precisely one attempt however it offers you considerably more possibilities than your fortunes if you stay here. And we shall need to leave now" He gestured to the open door questioningly. The older women traded silent looks, caution clearly warring with fear for the girls. Then Miss Haverstock turned to him uncertain but decided "Very well Mr. Sparrow". They came to the door. "Right this way, ladies".

The closest of the Navy ships watched as the _Pearl _executed a tack to a bearing that would allow her to snatch a precious slight advantage in speed over her pursuers while also taking her suicidally close to the visible edge of a nearby sandbar; bad luck or the slightest miscalculation would see her aground and in pieces. In that moment as she slowed before the sails caught the wind again they also observed what appeared to be a white flag of some form appearing from the windows of the aft cabin, followed closely by something, a figure perhaps?, plummeting to the seas below. Twice.

It was too much to hope for that they wouldn't be seen in their mad scramble for the top deck and the captain's cabin but they'd timed it well; most of the crew were engaged in bringing the ship around or prepping the cannons in the undesirable instance that their pursuers reached halfway accurate firing range. Jack had bolted the door for what it was worth and taken out the aft windows of the cabin, providing their exit. With luck, impact with the water wouldn't knock them senseless, with more luck and the nearest movable, floatable item of furniture to cling to they might get clear of the churning seas around the Pearl's rudder before she picked up speed again. And if the Gods were feeling astoundingly generous the British Navy might have spotted their desperate antics and be inclined to turn to rescue rather than pursuit. It was a simple plan. 'Smart' cost extra.

So close. Half of their little group had departed and for a moment he thought that their madness might actually succeed. And then three of the crew had stormed in through the door and the girl had thrust the small into his arms and run straight for them; he'd had the instant's delay her actions had won to decide whether to send the little one over the side with or without him. To take his chances with the Navy or his former crew? Bugger it; damned if he'd dance the hempen jig on some no-name town's gallows for anyone's morning entertainment. Fire flared in his shoulder as he dove for the window, a graze not a hit he hoped in the back of his mind. "Hold yer breath, hit with yer legs little one" he muttered to the white faced girl dangling from his arms as he reached precariously over the sill, trying to offer every inch of height she wouldn't have to fall that he could. _And you buggering angels had best feel like stepping in to work your bloody miracles_. As he let her go. Moments later two crewman arrived in a flying tackle that brought him crashing to the deck. And the round was over.

Several hours later and they'd finally shaken their pursuit thoroughly enough to stand down from battle readiness. His suggestion that it had been his efforts that had cut their odds from three to two in pursuit against one had not done as much as he'd hoped to improve the mood of the crew.

_They really had to stop meeting like this_ flashed through Jack's mind as the blow sent him to the floor, pain from both sides of his skull sending spots across his vision as his injured shoulder sent fire through his arm and neck. Not that the wood grain of the cabin's deck wasn't attractive, but meetings with it preferably involved more rum and fewer sudden impacts. A boot thudded into his gut, once, twice, hammering the breath from him in a gasping grunt, wrenching at the rope holding his wrists behind his back, scraping across flesh. A hand in his hair dragged him to his knees, painfully wrenching his head back despite his efforts at doubling over and attempting to suck in some measure of air.

"You lied to us about the island, Jack" Barbossa's voice was murderously quiet, more ominous from him than if he'd been raging. Panting, Jack blinked slowly, trying to clear the blood trickling down from the cut over his left eye enough to focus. The scene hadn't changed. His former first mate stood in front of him leaning back against the desk; out of the corner of his (mostly) working right eye he could see Rebecca Haverstock huddled against the wall of the cabin, knees to her chin, frozen still as if hoping she could disappear into the wood.

"Didn't lie mate, just seems that we're both the victims of erroneous intelligence" Blood in his mouth, only slurring a little, split lip stinging. "I can tell you who t' ask about gettin' your money returned-" The heel of a hand across the back of his head in warning; Jack spat blood and opened his mouth to say something incredibly stupid, some perverse demon at the back of his head unable to resist "Course, you're the one at the wheel now, shame ye didn't let someone else take the fall over this before ye stuck your head in the noose". Boots lashed out again, into his kidneys, arching his back against the stabbing, flaring pain that forced a strangled groan through gritted teeth. Knuckles driving into the slice across his shoulder, Deveuax adding to his handiwork; followed by a shove that sent him again face first into the deck at Barbossa's feet, more bruises to layer over those already there. More blood in his mouth, he'd torn his lip open on his own teeth this time.

"I wouldn't be worryin' about anyone's head but yer own right now Jack. And I know you're lyin'. Don't think I didn't notice the charts you were so eager to get rid of in yer little fireworks stunt a few days back, or the ridiculous course you had us setting"

"Just a little challenge, seemed only fitting a captain should have his own set o' charts, think of it as a housewarming gift" He tensed for a blow, to his surprise it didn't come as Barbossa raised a forestalling hand.

"I know ye like to make everything more complicated than it needs to be Jack, but I'm going to make this one very simple. I could hand you over to the crew and have them use yer guts for fishnets, but I think it'll be much easier if I give them the girl instead and let you watch. And once they've finished with her I might just let it slip that our fine Bootstrap Bill had a hand in settin' up this goose chase we've been on these last few days"; the cold, stated fact behind Barbossa's words more chilling than any threat.

_Oh fuck_. Jack closed his eyes, aching inside and out, trying to think of some way off this reef and finding nothing. He knew the man wasn't bluffing, contemplated what would happen if he refused…bastard knew he couldn't do it.

"Right location, but ye took the wrong route to get there" not bothering to hide his glare at the man in front of him. Hating him more than before; which took effort.

"And what route would I want to be taking?"

"What's in it for me, then" It was a pathetic negotiation; he didn't have a shred of leverage. But while he didn't think Barbossa would follow through on his intentions simply out of spite, he was also extremely disinclined to trust his own judgment at the moment.

"You get to keep yer innards Jack, and become king of your own little island like we planned. If ye don't give us _any_ trouble I _might_ be moved to limit the entertainment schedule and have the girl still alive at the end of the week. Give up the game Jack" Barbossa's voice hardened "The course. _Now._"

The words came like broken glass off his lips; he couldn't conceive why he'd been so stupid as to even begin putting that information on paper; but it was just one act of idiocy among legions at this point.

The fist was unexpected, colliding with his jaw hard enough to make something click, followed yet again by a boot driving up and under his ribcage leaving him on the deck heaving uselessly for air while muscles seized and cramped.

Barbossa let out a bark of laughter with no humour behind it "D'you expect us to believe we're to backtrack the last three days and that we've to be traipsing across the ocean like bloody ants every time we want to visit this _alleged_ island? You'll have to do better than that Jack"

"First time only, after that, you know where it is. Next time you make for that location, island'll find you" His voice was more hoarse than he would have liked, and less confident; he didn't exactly have overwhelming proof to back up his words. An oppressive silence settled in the room; Jack kept his gaze locked on Barbossa's, despite the fresh blood that wound its way down at the edge of his eye; all he could do to give his words the ring of truth, in addition to the glimpse of the now departed chart. Would it be enough? He didn't have anything else.

Barbossa watched him consideringly for a long moment, then straightened up. "Don't be lyin' Jack" he said quietly; then turning to Deveaux and Mallock "Bring him".

No one had said anything as they'd exited the cabin yet the crew just coincidentally happened to be clustered at the mainmast; in a mood that could best be described as 'murderous'.

"Our temporary setback is solved. Thanks to some…_misunderstood_ details that Mr. Sparrow was kind enough to explain"

Barbossa's words provoked a howling chorus from the crew of desired uses for their former captain. Inventive; and unpleasant.

"Come now gents don't be like that, Sparrow's got a governorship waiting for him, and _we'll be making sure he's around to take it up_" Barbossa's voice rose in emphasis overriding any protests. "Not to worry, there'll be other entertainment available 'tween here and the island" Appreciative whoops and low brow comments followed this, they'd been remarkably easily pleased Jack thought; then tensed at a rough hand in his hair and the edge of a blade trailing up the side of his face. There was a soft snick, and then the first of his dreadlocks landed on the deck beside where he knelt. Oh; wonderful.

More tugs, more hair falling to the deck, Barbossa continuing his work seemingly at random, shaving some patches down to the scalp leaving careless ragged tufts in others. Jack tried not to flinch at the scrapes and nicks.

"Cheer up Jack, it's for yer own good. Ye'll be with us for a bit and we've only 'basic quarters' to offer at the moment, this just gives you one less thing to worry about. And it's a free service!" The crew was laughing now; Jack forced his expression to neutral and tried to stare at nothing. Barbossa's actions were petty, and humiliating, and would probably save his life. The man had judged it nicely; he'd made Jack look a total fool and managed to ease the crew's mood from 'murderous' to merely 'malicious'. There was scattered applause when the last locks joined the pile on the deck; Barbossa sketched an ironic little bow before commenting "I'll be leavin' it up to you lads to be findin' Mr. Sparrow suitable quarters!" As he spoke he half dragged Jack to his feet by one arm and slung him towards the waiting crew. As the pirates swarmed forwards Barbossa beckoned Leopard over to order "Make sure they leave 'im alive and in one piece" after a pause "More or less. An' keep him on deck when they're done, I want Sparrow where we can see him. No surprises this time round".

At first they'd been so eager to get their hands on him that they'd gotten in each other's way; but they'd sorted that out. Had themselves a nice little ring where jeers, fists and feet could come from any and all directions as they shoved him back and forth between each other. A fist to the gut, backhand to the face, the heel of a hand just below his collarbone turning every muscle in his body limp for an instant and sending him staggering; then they'd kick his legs out from under him, put him on the deck so the boots could come out again, hammering into anywhere they could reach, across his back and spine, gut, groin, hips, shins. Until they got bored and dragged him to his feet to play again. And again. And again.

Their shouting snapped in and out, at times a dull roar pounding against his already aching skull, at others fading under the noise of the blood pulsing in his ears and his own ragged breath. He wasn't sure how long they'd been at this game now but they'd been oh so considerate in making sure that no careless shot handed him over to unconsciousness too early. It wasn't any fun if your target passed out; unless you were the target.

His vision was wavering along with his balance, at least from the eye that wasn't yet entirely blinded by blood and bruises; something in his right knee wasn't taking any weight more than two times out of five. Sure enough, it sent him down again; Jack clenched his teeth against a howl of pain as he slammed into the deck landing awkwardly on his bound hands and feeling something snap, stabbing pain cutting through the dull ache of ropes slick with blood against raw skin. No use trying to get up, he wouldn't make it and it simply gave them a better target. His world had narrowed to a hazy instinct that had him trying to roll with the blows, hating the weakness it showed, and the pained gasps and grunts he couldn't swallow completely.

Standing at the back, there was no where else to go, Bill fought back the screaming urge to intervene; his presence now could only make things worse. So he stood, and watched, and tried to feel nothing at all.

As the man tasked (reluctantly) with keeping Jack Sparrow alive it seemed fitting that it was Leopard who finished it. A swift and accurate headbutt sent the black deck of the _Pearl_ spinning up to meet Jack, along with the welcome blackness of oblivion.

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A/N: Glee, I've been waiting to get to this chapter for a long time. And of course absolutely nothing will go wrong for Jack in the following chapter...

Reviews put pretty feathers in pirate hats


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